I always admire people who are unafraid to stare at their complexions in an airport bathroom mirror. I face the mirror but my eyes dart downward to stare at the dirty fixtures instead of the beaches of blochiness scattered about my aging face.
But then the gay flight attendant flirted with me, which made me feel less self-conscious. At least someone thought I was attractive. I never feel attractive when I travel.
Today I listened to The Strokes’ first record all morning before going to Beth’s for a blowjob. I told her I hadn’t masturbated in over a week and wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t swallow.